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↪ turkeytalk: 3 minutes left. Aviators take a penalty. Goalie back in. #turkeysLB

↪ turkeytalk: OMFG what a dumb penalty from Duffy on the power play. Proving why he’s on the second unit and why we really need a calmer presence like Baptiste on the PP. 4 on 4, Aviators likely going empty net if they gain the zone. #turkeysLB

↪ turkeytalk: EMPTY NETTER FROM FRIEDMAN!! 1 minute left omfg are we going to do it? Are we still alive!? #turkeysLB

abqturkeysnhl (May 15, 2024): GAME SEVEN ALERT GAME SEVEN ALERT THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! The Turkeys have forced a Game Seven - see you all in Manitoba in days!

↪ turkeytalk: Still alive. Wow. My poor heart.

“I don’t want anyone feeling nervous before this game,” Dylan said in the locker room. “It’s just another game. We win games all the fucking time, don’t we?”

There was some shaky agreement, less enthusiastic than it’d been at the start of the series. The thrill of winning round one and then back-to-back games had been a high the whole team had ridden. Losing three in a row had killed a lot of that excitement. But Dylan was right. If they played desperate, their nerves would get the better of them.

They had just arrived at the arena. Three hours until game time. Pre-game routines to go through as they convinced themselves and each other that they deserved to be here, that they would walk out of here with the win.

“Do what you gotta do,” Dylan said, then paused. He waited until they were all quiet, breaths held as they wondered what their captain would say next. “But if you have the jitters…the line for arm wrestling starts behind Nover.”

“Fuck off!” Novak shouted, but he dutifully walked over to a corner where they could use the bench as a table. “Let me beat you quick so I can go play sewer ball.”

Watching Novak and Dylan arm wrestle did what it was probably meant to do: it deflated the tension in the room. As everyone took turns squaring off against each other, the rest of them would shout encouragement and place bets on the winners.

They spent the better part of an hour shit-talking each other. Most importantly, it was nearly an hour of forgetting they were here to play a hockey game. For Henri, this was the most important game of his career so far, and all he could think of was how incredibly bad Duffy was at arm wrestling, that Briggs was double-jointed, or that Novak only ever won by shouting at his opponent until they got distracted.

After the coaches found them screaming their heads off as their rookie Larsen held his own against Dylan, they broke it up.

“No broken arms,” snapped Krzysztofek, though he seemed more amused than angry. “Go nap or stretch or something. It’s like babysitting a bunch of giant toddlers. Win me a fucking game, boys!”

abqturkeysnhl (May 17, 2024): TURKEYS WIN 1-0 AGAINST THE AVIATORS! GWG from Larsen #3. That’s not only his first NHL playoff goal but his playoff point! The Turkeys are headed to Edmonton in a week to take on the Mounties in the Western Conference Finals.

↪ turkeytalk: A game seven one-goal game. I lost five pounds just from sweating. Jfc amazing game but nerve-wracking to watch. Can’t wait to see them take on Edmonton - the reigning Western Conference Champs won’t know what hit them.

↪ gobblegoals: lol they’ll know exactly what hit them: dylan everett. man’s a checking machine. he’s in it to win it and will throw his body any which way necessary to make it happen.

↪ turkeytalk: Yes but he needs to watch out. He can’t keep it up for another two rounds. Dude’s 30. Last time he was in Round Three, he wasn’t old enough to legally drink…

↪ gobblegoals: omfg he’s only thirty!! he’s not going to break. dude’s a machine.

↪ turkeytalk: You and I both know that’s hockey middle-aged if not outright hockey old.

luc-henri-sourit (May 17, 2024): A beautiful smile to congratulate the rookie :) and Baptiste made sure to get him the puck!! Magnificent 1000/10

CHAPTER 71

The Turkeys hadn’t made it this far in the playoffs since before Henri was drafted. He remembered watching the Turkeys win their Stanley Cups and admiring the kind of team that could win it not once, but twice in a row. They’d flubbed that third attempt and never quite recovered.

Henri had never seen playoffs past the first round. It was new territory for him too. Fuck, he’d never seen more than five minutes in a playoff game before this year. Now he was getting nearly twenty minutes a game. This was the NHL career he’d always imagined for himself; it was surreal to understand this was his reality, not just a dream.

Their flight out to Edmonton for the new series was at an ungodly hour. Most of the team slept through the flight, Henri and Dylan included. No one paid them any mind when they leaned their heads together and shared a scratchy blanket.

They weren’t even the only ones. For a sport that was so aggressively heteronormative (and at times wildly homophobic), there were hundreds of ways they could disguise themselves behind a ‘bromance.’

Share a blanket with your bro. Rest your head on his shoulder. Fall asleep in his room because you were up late drinking or playing video games. Share drinks, sit too close together, hug after goals. All acceptable things that every one of them had done again and again.

So no one cared that Dylan was practically wrapped around Henri, and no one would look twice and notice that their hands were clasped beneath the blanket.

There was a team meal and late practice waiting for them in Edmonton. They stretched and groaned once they landed, no one quite awake enough for talking yet. They’d be back at it by the time they hit the ice after a quick reset at the hotel. Hopefully.

Henri powered his phone back on as he walked down the steps into the crisp Edmonton air. He hadn’t changed his background or lock screen in years, both displaying his family’s sailboat on Lake Memphremagog. Sometimes he’d catch himself staring at it, wishing for those peaceful summer weeks when it was just him, his father, and the water. His little break from hockey…a break he would already be enjoying if they weren’t still fighting in the playoffs.